The Ballad of Shadow the Hedgehog
by ShadowWeasel
Summary: In the dusted plains of the Wild West, Shadow the hedgehog wanders without purpose or past. Crushed beneath the tyranny of Robotnik and Metal Sonic, Westown faces daily terror and death, and a drunken, tired Sonic the hedgehog does nothing. When the mysterious stranger crosses paths with the town-drunk, the people know that all hell is about to break loose. INTENSE VIOLENCE WARNING
1. Chapter 1

There was no thinking as Shadow the hedgehog fired six rounds from his revolving pistol. There was, however, the irrefutable stench of smoldering gunpowder, the spray of vibrantly scarlet blood, and the sound of souls being sent to hell.

The hedgehog in the left corner of the saloon spasmed violently as two balls of lead tore through his ribcage and shattered bone. One splattered the remains of his heart across the back-wall and painted the browning oak a dank crimson.

The two weasels on Shadow's right were destroyed by a pair of bullets. One through the eye. One down the throat. Both screamed and bled and writhed as life fled their bodies.

The rat on the upper level proved slightly more difficult, but the none could escape the wrath of a discharging forty-five revolver. He screeched as the round ripped apart his neck, and as he clawed futiley at the wound the railing beneath him snapped into several pieces. There was a sickening snapping noise when he made contact with the hardwood floor below. Not before splintering to shards the table below, of course.

Now all that was left was the goddamned...

"Bartender," the graying hedgehog was saying as he jabbed a sawed-off shotgun into Shadow's skull. The ultimate life form froze as the cold steel touched just below his ear. Smart men knew that the area under the ear was the weakest part of the skull. This bartender happened to be a smart man. "Nobody suspects the bartender."

Shadow stood perfectly still. A slight breeze wafted through the now-empty and bloodied tavern, sending the black hedgehog's tattered trench-coat into a billowing wave. The wine-colored material of the jacket was stained with dust and gunpowder, much in contrast to the barkeep's attire.

The silvery hedgehog wore a gold-rimmed monicle, a maroon vest and bowtie, and a midnight-dark bowler-hat. He was grinning at the black and red hedgehog, certain that victory was his.

"Now turn the hell around, gunslinger," he barked. "Lemme' see your face."

Shadow did so. Blood-red eyes ringed with the darkness of a wandering mercenary. Glaring orbs of fire that concealed pain and misery. Killer's eyes.

"Hey," the bartender sneered, "you _are_ the one that Robotnik's after. Wonder what the hell for?"

"How about you ask him?" Shadow suggested quietly. The plan was forming in his mind even as he spoke. Instincts working like clockwork. Brain running at a million miles an hour.

"How 'bout you shut your goddamned mouth?" the older man snapped. "You got a lot of rings on your head, Mister Shadow. And you're worth a helluva' lot more kicking than bleeding. So how's about you put your hands right on up there for me?"

The black hedgehog raised his gloved palms defensively, dangling his pistol between his thumb and index-finger. The monicle-wearing man watched the gun carefully.

"Drop the six-shooter."

Shadow cocked his head slightly and cast him a wondering look.

"I said drop it, goddamn it!"

With a shrug, the ultimate life form let the gun fall to the ground. The barkeep kept his eyes locked with the revolver as it went, unaware of just how fast the infamous Black Blur really was.

It didn't take much. A swift parody of a roundhouse kick across the countertop was enough to send a hellish ringing sound through the old man's head and ears, and the shotgun tumbled from his grasp as he reeled backwards and clutched the sides of his face. Shadow moved with the flowing motion of the kick, twirling around and snatching up his still-falling pistol out of the air with his left hand, and picking the sawed-off off of the table with his right. He aimed with his left, cocking the gun and chambering the sixth and final bullet.

Bang.

**Wanted for Murder and Arson:**

**Shadow the Hedgehog**

**Reward: **

**500 Rings Dead**

**1000 Rings Alive**

Sonic the hedgehog could only watch as another poor soul was dragged kicking and screaming into the blistering sunlight and thrown into the sharp, hot granules of sand that made up the wide road that cut through the center of Westown. Who it was this time, he couldn't be certain. He didn't recognize the man's face. But that didn't make the terror and heartbreak any less real.

"No! No, please! I didn't know! Please, let me go!"

What the crime was this time, Sonic wasn't sure of either. But that never mattered anyway. Not anymore, at least.

"I'm sorry! Just let me go, and I won't do it again, I swear!"

How many people had been executed this week... hell, Sonic was sure that he wasn't the _only _one that had lost count.

Metal Sonic's indigo skin gleamed and reflected beams of pallor, yellow light. Waves of heat hovered off of his body in patterned distortsions of air. The dark brown, leather hat cast deathly black shadows onto the earth below and concealed only half of the chrome-fiend's face. One could still easily make out the pair of bleeding, crimson eyes glaring through the darkness. Claw-like hands portruded menacingly from the sleeves of a dirt-black overcoat, and one talon waited patiently just above the trigger of a silvery, pristine bolt-action rifle.

The poor, shivering husk that had once been a dog cowered as Metal Sonic cocked the rifle. "Oh, God..."

"Citizen Kennedy," the sheriff from hell spoke in an even, deep tone that vibrated the sand and sent shivers down the spines of the innocent, "you are charged with crimes against our leader Robotnik and his people."

The brown dog drew crosses and crucifixes over his broad chest, quoting prayers and words of saviors. "Our father in heaven..."

"In the interest of justice and safety..."

"... hallowed be thy name."

"... you are hereby ordered to be executed."

"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done..."

"Scheduled to occur..."

"...on earth as it is in heaven."

"Immediately."

There was the taut, echoing retort of a rifle as Citizen Kennedy's brains were splattered across the sand. Gray smoke rolled and roiled from the barrel and clouded the scenery in a dark cloud. Pink blood and speckles of greymatter splashed across the golden clots of sand below, and the corpse of one man was left to rot in the sun and cook for the vultures.

Sonic shook his head sorrowfully and choked down a shot of whiskey as Metal Sonic took a moment to load another bullet into his gun. Damned machine always had to have things perfect, the blue hedgehog thought with disdain as the robot marched off to patrol the perimeter of Westown once more, not bothering to wipe away the bloody remains of the innocent that was now splattered across his face and half of the town.

"Another shot, Sonic?"

Sonic glanced over at Knuckles the echidna, who patiently awaited his most loyal, and no doubt most depressed, customer. The red echidna was already pouring the delicious gold-brown concoction into the glass before he could say yes.

"One of these days, Knuckles," the hedgehog vowed, murmuring his words in a slurred blend of drunkenness and heroism, "I'm going to put a hole in that bastard's skull. And we're going to watch him bleed his wirey guts all over the goddamned sand until he dies."

The bartender sighed and readied another bottle of alcohol. Third one today. For Sonic alone. "If you say so, Sonic," he agreed tiredly.

And then everything changed as one shadowy hedgehog in a blood-red trench-coat entered the saloon, and the wind sent the rickety double-doors fluttering against the walls with a wooden crack. Deep red eyes locked with toxic green ones, and all hell was soon to follow.


	2. Chapter 2

Knuckles the echidna had never before seen the man that stood idle in the doorway to the tavern, the coattails of his dark red jacket flapping in the sandy winds of the outside world. The shadowy features of the black hedgehog were unfamiliar to the seasoned barkeep, who could not help but cast a curious glance at the stranger before him. But the first words out of the man's mouth were, "Whiskey. Don't hold back." And so, Knuckles did not care or wonder about who the visitor was or his intentions. The only thing that mattered was that he wanted a drink.

"You got it," the bartender affirmed, fetching a shot-glass from the shelf below.

The stranger took his seat at the counter, placing himself next a rather sad-looking sack of blue fur and flesh. Sonic looked up from his empty drink to see the man beside him staring at him, and he huffed a breath of alcohol-stained air.

"The hell are you staring at?" he snapped.

Shadow replied by shifting his gaze to the working bartender. Knuckles brought his drink without delay, setting it on the oak countertop with a solid clack. The ultimate life form coiled his fingers around the drink and sighed quietly to himself.

That was about the time that things went to hell.

Sonic, drunk out of his skull, mindlessly grabbed for a whiskey to swallow. The closest one just so happened to belong to a cold-blooded killer. He snatched the glass from the black hedgehog's gloved hands and downed the alcohol in a meager half-second. But this, unfortunately, failed to impress the thirsty Shadow the hedgehog.

Knuckles glanced up from his cleaning and felt his face drain of color. "S-Sonic," he stammered, "that's not your..."

Shadow raised an open palm to signal silence, and he turned to focus his attention on the blue hedgehog. A sorry excuse for a man; tattered leather vest, bandolier of pistol ammo, a rusted badge that probably shined with pride and color years ago, and a beaten ten-gallon atop the outfit.

Sonic cast Shadow a sideways glare when the ultimate life form spoke. "That was mine."

Frankly, though, the fastest drinker alive didn't give a damn. And to prove it, he raised his favorite finger in reply.

The gun was in his mouth before either the bartender or the drunk knew it. Sonic gagged reflexively as the steely taste of a gun barrel invaded his throat. Shadow pulled back the hammer and locked eyes with the drink-stealing bastard.

"No... no guns!"

The black hedgehog pressed the revolver deeper into Sonic's gullet.

"I said no guns!"

Sonic managed a stupefied grin from beneath the threat of death, causing Shadow to utter an animalistic growl.

Then there was the unmistakable sound of shotgun-shells being chambered. "I'm telling you to drop the goddamned gun," Knuckles warned one final time, aiming the twin barrels at Shadow's head.

Damned bartenders. Shadow offered something of a sigh as he holstered his weapon reluctantly, all the while refusing to let his eyes off of Sonic's.

Then Knuckles shifted the sights to said drunkard. "_Both _of you," he snarled.

There was a moment of stunned silence as the man who was once called the fastest draw alive let his machine-pistol fall to the ground. Shadow's eyes widened when he realized that the whole time he had been holding the Blue Blur by the throat, he had been holding him by the gut. And a German-engineered machine-pistol could've done a helluva' lot more damage to one's stomach than a forty-five to one's neck.

And so, Knuckles the echidna let out a sigh of relief as another crisis was avoided.

Of course, this was before Shadow concluded that if guns weren't allowed, then fists most certainly were.

...

Amelia Rose knew that what she was doing was wrong, walking around in her father's fine clothes and collar, his favorite Bible in hand. She was aware that it was normally her father's job to stand outside of the saloon each morning and quote verses discouraging drinking and violence and profanity. And she also was certain that on top of all of this, it was dangerous for her _or _her father to do this each day of the week.

But she was hell-bent on accomplishing this task. With Father Rose sick in bed, Amy was the only one who could fulfill these duties. She had always been a determined young woman when it came to responsibility, and she wasn't about to let something as simple as a head cold keep the holy word from being spread to the people of Westown.

So, Amy straightened the white collar around her neck, checked the buttons on her black coat, and cleared her throat as she opened the book and began to read aloud for passerby to hear.

That was until Sonic the hedgehog suddenly barreled out the doors of the saloon, tumbling backwards and somersaulting down the steps and into the dust. There was blood running down his chin, and a fresh bruise on his face.

Amy squealed in shock as the smelly drunk nearly landed on her dress-shoes.

Sonic stumbled to his feet and cocked his head when he saw the woman dressed in man's clothing. But it wasn't the strangest thing he had ever seen, so he shrugged and tipped his hat in her direction. "Morning, Miss Rose," he slurred.

Before she could retort, a red and black blur leapt from the tavern-doors and tackled the man into the dirt. Shadow landed another punch before Sonic shoved him off and delivered a kick to his abdomen.

The stranger wobbled backwards and directly into the still-shocked and dumbfounded Amelia Rose. The dark hedgehog turned to face the girl and growled when his red irises found her own jade ones. "Get the hell outta' the way."

Amy scurried backwards and into the darkness of the overhang that protruded from the roof of the saloon, watching as the two hedgehogs engaged in a brutal fistfight.

Sonic lunged forward and crossed his fist with Shadow's nose, and blood spewed from his nostrils and spattered the sand with red fluid. The black hedgehog countered with a swift kick to the knee, which succeeded in crippling the drunk and sending him to his knees. Sonic could only watch, paralyzed in pain, as Shadow landed an ear-ringing blow to the side of his head and sent him toppling to the ground.

"Get up," the ultimate life form commanded, lifting Sonic by the throat. "Get the hell up."

"Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all."

Sonic stopped struggling and Shadow ceased fighting at the sound of a woman's voice. The red-eyed hedgehog shot a look at the girl in preacher's clothes, confused by her words. "The hell are you talking about?"

Amy stood from the shadows and swallowed hard as she flipped through the pages of her Bible for another verse. "As for a person who stirs up division, after warning him once and then twice, have nothing more to do with him," she quoted.

Shadow only stared at her, and Sonic was likewise confused and still.

"The beginning of strife is like letting out water, so quit before the quarrel breaks out."

Then Sonic shook his head and said, "Oh, Christ. This Bible-bullshit? We'll quit fightin' if you just shut your trap, alright?"

Amy's cheeks turned scarlet when the town-drunk said Bible-bullshit, but she agreed with a nod.

Shadow watched in bewilderment as the blue hedgehog simply walked away from the fight after being told to stop by some girl in man's clothes. He blinked and looked at the pink hedgehog before him, who was now standing proudly with her Bible held close to her breast. She looked at him hesitantly, glancing away once or twice, but then smiled and extended a hand to the stranger.

"Welcome to Westown, stranger. My name is Amelia Rose."


	3. Chapter 3

The blood was crusty and dry on Metal Sonic's mouth-less face by the time he saw the cluster of hedgehogs and rats and dogs approaching from the north. From his place upon the bench, he could see the bronze and silver twinkle of bouncing firearms and blades in the light of the noontime sun. A dust-engulfed posse of misfits, from the looks of it. _Armed _misfits, nonetheless. Peeling his bolt-action from the inside of his coat, he stood to greet the potentially hostile strangers.

The group of seven met the indigo hedgehog halfway, stopping several yards away from the gate into Westown. The leader, a dark green hedgehog in a black leather jacket, sauntered up to the lawman with one hand on his belt.

"Howdy," the man said as he pushed a pair of dark, tinted spectacles up onto his nose. "There a problem?"

"State your name and business," Metal Sonic demanded, his stance tense and his rifle cocked.

The men behind the green hedgehog seemed nervous in the presence of the android. But the leader seemed unfazed. "The name's Scourge," he said. "We're just passing through to get to Rainwater, just down the way. Satisfied?"

Metal Sonic might have been satisfied, had it not been for the criminal database in his brain that told him that this man was wanted for murder, burglary, and grand theft. The men behind the outlaw shifted and muttered to one another in hushed tones; no doubt members of some sort of gang-following. And so instead of an audible answer, the sheriff offered the barrel of his gun in reply.

Scourge flinched at the speed with which the weapon had been readied. "Hey! What the hell are you-?"

The gunfight was over in seven meager seconds.

One.

The dog guarding the rear of the group pulled his own pistol at the sight of Metal Sonic's rifle. His finger brushed the trigger just as a ball of lead exploded through his forehead and plastered gouts of blood across the sand. Hesitation was for the weak. The dog had hesitated.

Two.

The shot rang out. Sound caught up with reality and rang in the ears of the now-terrified band of thieves. Scourge was the first to move, drawing a pair of Schofield revolvers from his belt and diving into the dirt for cover. Two rats stood their ground; one unveiled a sawed-off shotgun from the darkness of his jacket, and the other fumbled with his gunbelt. Metal Sonic aimed for the one brandishing the shotgun.

Three.

The others scattered, leaving the two rats to fend for themselves against the robotic killer. Another shot echoed through the wastelands of the west as a second bullet tore through the veins and bone that made up the throat of the shotgun-wielding bandit. Crimson fluids splattered his partner, who had finally readied his revolver.

Four.

Metal Sonic had already chambered another bullet by the time the rat's pistol was cocked and aimed. Yet another taut retort sounded from the rifle, and a third body toppled into the sand. Blood sputtered from the gaping hole in the corpse's chest, and the arms and legs of the dead man twitched and spasmed.

Five.

Scourge fired off a trio of bullets in the sheriff's general direction. Two smashed through the dirt and dust, and one nearly made contact with Metal Sonic's skin. However, as the denizens of Westown knew, Metal Sonic was no ordinary hedgehog. The third bullet flew harmlessly past the dark blue robot's head as he sidestepped at light-speed. In reply, the police officer squeezed off another round, this one splintering through the green hedgehog's palm and tossing his gun to the ground.

Six.

The bandit-leader was howling in pain, and he had dropped his other gun in order to clutch his bleeding hand. The remaining armed men consisted of three; one hedgehog with a repeating-rifle, and two dogs with double-barreled shotguns. At this range, if they had each fired in unison, they could have easily obliterated the sheriff from hell. But this meant nothing to the fastest lawman in the west.

Metal Sonic placed the first shot into the dog on the left, snapping through his ribcage and vital organs. The hedgehog with the rifle panicked and dashed for cover, cowering behind the dog and peering out to see if it was safe. This made it easy for Metal Sonic to discharge another bullet through both the dog _and _the hedgehog. Through one man's shoulder and out another man's skull.

Seven.

Double-barrel still raised, blood gushing from his shoulder, the dog cursed and swore as he went to fire his rifle. Metal Sonic didn't flinch as the gun suddenly combusted backfired in a violent pop of amber and pink blood and fire. The desert-sand had a tendency to do that to guns, and Metal Sonic had calculated and known that this would occur. But that didn't make the bandit's shrieks of agony any less real as the flames licked away the remainder of his life. And the shrapnel didn't make matters any better.

There was a ghastly, hellish silence as the blood of the damned soaked into the earth, and Metal Sonic observed the carnage systematically as he reloaded his bolt-action. Scourge was the only one left alive, shivering and dumbfounded in his place in the dirt. The only noise to be heard was the mechanical clicking of bullets entering their chambers as the officer tended to his gun.

Click.

"You..." Scourge swallowed hard and choked back terror, "... you killed them."

Click.

"You freaking slaughtered them."

Click.

"What in the hell _are _you?"

Click.

Scourge stood from the dirt, clutching his bloody and grimy hand. The pistol in his sleeve shifted as he moved closer to the indigo menace. Waiting for the perfect shot.

Click.

"Answer me, goddamn you!" he screamed as the gun flashed in the sunlight, his fingers easily finding and pulling back on the trigger.

Click.

Metal Sonic lunged forward, twirling mid-flight in order to successfully avoid the bullet that discharged from the pistol. The concealed-firearm was predictable, the robot thought to himself as his talons locked around Scourge's gun-arm and constricted like a rattler around a mouse. The green hedgehog cried out as the sharp points of his claws dug through the leather sleeves and into the skin beneath.

There was a sickening snap as Metal Sonic suddenly twisted the thief's arm and tore backwards. The bone ejected from its socket and tore muscle with a fleshy ripping noise as Scourge roared in pain. His right arm hung limply at his side and the gun he held fell into the dust.

"I am the sheriff of Westown," the android answered grimly, his eyes gleaming in the golden light of the desert day. "And you, Scourge the hedgehog, are under arrest for murder, burglary, and grand theft."

...

In the distance, a series of gunshots rang out, and Shadow the hedgehog took Amy Rose by the hand and shook reluctantly. "Westown, huh?" he murmured quietly as a salvo of screams echoed from the same location, "Sounds like one hell of a place."

"Let me show you around town," the girl offered, happy to assist. "I'm sure you'll like it here."

There was the sound of tearing flesh and dislocating bones, and the trained-killer's ears twitched at the noise, however distant. "I'm sure I will," he said with a fanged smirk as he pulled a cigar from his pocket. The flame from his match flickered quickly and faded as it fed its dying breaths to the cigarette. Shadow's mouth smoldered and smoked as he followed the preacher's daughter. "I'm sure I will."


	4. Chapter 4

The mayor of Westown glared lazily through the blinds, his eyes scanning the desert landscape. Like a vulture watching for a weak animal to stumble. He breathed through his large nose, inhaling copious amounts of dust and dying cigar-smoke. Then he peeled his jacket open and retrieved a fresh cigarette from his pocket.

The flickering glow of amber flame illuminated the darkness for only a second, and one could see several things before the light was extinguished. Sweat-slicked mountains of flesh. Greasy, bushy ends of a mustache. Foggy, glossy lenses of blue-tinted goggles.

Doctor Ivo Robotnik took a long, relaxed drag of his cigar, blowing hazy plumes of almost black smoke out his mouth and into the dark room. He reached for his hat, pulling the brim down over his eyes. The warm, sour taste of the drug lulled his body into immobility, and the heat of the noontime sun forced his eyelids closed. Just as a snore escaped his lips, there was a knock at his door.

Damned mongrels.

"Enter," he spat, sitting erect in his chair now, turning around to greet whoever was there.

The door swung open to reveal two silhouettes, casting bleeding shadows across the floorboards in the glow of the high sun. By the gunmetal sheen that half-blinded him, Robotnik could make a good guess that one of them was the sheriff. The other shape, however, was more difficult to identify. Slouching, groaning, limp.

"Sir," Metal Sonic acknowledged politely as he dragged the body into the room, scraping the oak ground with the man's steel-toed boots.

Now, in the dimmer, more comfortable lighting provided by the window, Robotnik could see the green hedgehog in the sheriff's arms. He was wearing a black leather jacket, dark glasses, and two empty holsters.

"Who the hell is this?" the mayor demanded, waving a pudgy hand at the stranger.

"Scourge the hedgehog," the android answered, pausing to show Robotnik the criminal in his arms. "Under arrest for burglary, murd-..."

The large man stopped him mid-sentence. Just another wild dog to slaughter. "Fine, fine. Put him in the cell."

Metal Sonic did so, locking the cage as he threw the weak hedgehog to the floor.

"You bastards..." the bandit slurred, limping towards the bars. "You can't do this to me, I've got freakin' rights..."

"Shut up," Robotnik ordered from behind his desk, ignoring the one called Scourge and returning his attention to Metal Sonic. He bit the end of his cigar as he spoke, dropping bits of ash and paper onto the table below.

The officer saluted his master and stood at attention. "Sir. Would you like me to give you a summary of today's events as of this hour?"

Robotnik rolled his squinting eyes. Same question. Every damn day. "Yes, I would very much like that."

Metal Sonic nodded. "Nine o'clock; five minutes, thirty-two seconds. Citizen Kennedy's execution was successful. Patrol resumed regularly until twelve o'clock; twenty-two minutes, seventeen seconds. Encountered and confronted known criminal Scourge the hedgehog..."

The mayor leaned back into his seat and listened with closed eyes. How much he just wanted to drift off and fall asleep...

"New arrivals to Westown include one black and red hedgehog. Identity unknown. Lethality unknown. Reasons for arrival are unclear..."

Robotnik's eyes shot open. Black and red hedgehog. "Shadow?" he rumbled through his fading cig. Fragmented images of blood and gore and fire flashed through his mind. "_Shadow _is here?"

Metal Sonic paused. His scarlet eyes flickered with uncertainty. "I am unsure of who you are referring to..."

The fat doctor bolted from his chair and practically ran towards the robot. He placed his pair of meaty hands on the sheriff's shoulders. "Search your criminal records for a Shadow the hedgehog. Relations to arson and murder. Quickly, you useless machine, quickly!"

Metal Sonic stood perfectly still for three seconds as he looked through his database. Then his face glowed with understanding. "Shadow the hedgehog. Wanted for arson and murder. Bounty is five-hundred rings dead, one-thousand rings alive."

"The red and black hedgehog, you imbecile!" Robotnik sputtered. "And you let him into town?"

...

Scourge's ears were ringing. The pain in his arm was unbearable, but it had become numb over the past few minutes. The darkness was rimmed with red, and his head was pounding like his brain would burst from his skull.

"Apologies, sir."

"You fool! He can't be here; he might remember. God help us if that monster figures out who he is."

"I can assure you, sir, I will take care of the hedgehog."

"No, damn it, no! You were there. He'll recognize you for certain."

"H-..." Scourge tried to speak, tried to tell the duo of voices to shut the hell up, but his throat was too dry. He swallowed hard and made another attempt. "Hey, dumbasses."

Robotnik's wide neck snapped in the direction of the prisoner, and Metal Sonic's gaze followed.

"What the hell are you talking about?" the thief asked, leaning on the cell-bars for support.

"Nothing of your concern, trash," the mayor retorted sharply. "You won't be remembering any of this by tomorrow, anyway."

"Nine o'clock tomorrow, to be exact," Metal Sonic added precisely.

Scourge gulped down the lump in his throat when he realized what was in store for him. What in the hell kind of town was this? He'd only stolen, what, once or twice here and there. And the murders weren't even murders, really. They were more... _manslaughter_ than anything...

But then an idea struck the devious green hedgehog. "W-wait a minute! You said you need somebody... 'taken care of,' am I right?"

Robotnik paused. He gave Scourge a good, hard look as he pulled another cigar from his pocket. After lighting and biting the roll of paper, he replied warily, "Yes, yes we do."

Scourge grinned fiendishly. Hook. "_I _happen to be quite... adept, in disposing of unwanted persons, Mister...?"

"Robotnik," the man told him.

The hedgehog's smile widened. Line. "Robotnik. Listen, I could take care of this... Shadow, for you."

Robotnik snorted in disgust and rounded his desk. He flopped into the chair with a loud creaking noise. "And I suppose you'll be wanting some sort of... reward for your efforts?"

Sinker. "Just let me go," Scourge offered, extending his good arm through the door. With a flick of his wrist, the hidden knife he kept in his sleeve shot from its place and slid smoothly into his palm. The silver blade glinted in the smokey darkness as he twirled the dagger with his fingers. "I'll kill whoever you damn-well please... Mister Robotnik."

The mayor cast him a skeptical stare. Chewed deeper into his cigar. Ashes spewed and flitted like microscopic butterflies of orange and gray. The man's twin blue orbs of glass nodded after what felt like hours. "Deal. Your freedom for the death of Shadow the hedgehog."

Metal Sonic was quick to protest. It was _his _job to kill. "But, sir-!"

Robotnik shot him a cold glare that the android immediately understood.

The sheriff sighed mechanically and unlocked the cage. Unleashed a third demon into the plane of hell called Westown.

...

Scourge smiled wildly when he felt the sun on his skin again. Five minutes in that office had felt like five years. He glanced over at Metal Sonic, who had escorted him outside. The metal hedgehog glared back at him with crimson orbs full of contempt.

"You have twenty-four hours to complete your task."

Before Scourge could respond, Metal Sonic grabbed hold of his limp, dislocated arm. He shoved inward and pressed the bandit's shoulder down. There was a gross pop as the limb crackled back into place. The socket flared and burned like it was on fire, and Scourge could only scream in reply as the police officer tossed him out into the dirty roadway.

There, the robot thought with an invisible smile. All better.


	5. Chapter 5

"And that's old Doc Prower's office. He's a good man. My father says he's a little wet behind the ears, though."

"Uh-huh..." Shadow murmured against his cigar and tuned out the girl's boring words. The ashes and smoke sputtered as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Amy waved a hand in front of her face in an attempt to redirect the gray fumes, but to no avail. She coughed a little and continued pointing to different landmarks and explaining their origins.

The cherry-red sun began to bleed into the violet darkness of evening, and the nighttime winds blew roughly through the roads of Westown. Clouds of wispy white cotton peppered the sky, and puffs of tanned earth tumbled through the air just above the ground. Stars peeked out from beneath their indigo blankets to watch the beautiful western sunset christening the infant night.

It wasn't long before the pair of hedgehogs reached the outskirts of town and arrived at the sad, blackened remains of a once-mighty structure. Amy stretched her fingers in its direction, gesturing to the desolate sight. Shards of glass glittered in the faint starlight, accented by ashes and charred refuse. "And this is Mister Robotnik's old mansion. Well, what's left of it, that is."

Shadow's scarlet eyes visibly lit up in the growing black. "Robotnik," he mumbled dreamily. "Who's Robotnik?"

Amy perked up at the sounds of interest at last emerging from the stranger's voice. "There's three of 'em, actually," she explained eagerly. "Let's see... there was Mister Gerald, his nephew Ivo, and his granddaughter Maria. They all used to live here together. This was an orphanage at one point, believe it or not."

Something glimmered in the black hedgehog's eyes. "An... orphanage?" he muttered in what sounded like disbelief.

The girl nodded, her pink bangs bobbing as she did so. "Yeah. They called it 'The Ark,' back when it was still standing. I think it was supposed to be kind of like how Noah's ark, from the Bible, saved all the innocent animals from the flood. The orphans were the animals..."

"And the whole goddamned world was the flood," the stranger finished crudely. He tossed away his ashen cigar, squashing it into the cool sand with the heel of his boot. His fingers pulled the brim of his hat down slightly past his forehead in an odd variation of a salute.

Amelia Rose could only nod in reply. Thinking of the long-dead Robotnik family always troubled her. It was far more troubling to think that the sole survivor should have become the most hated man in Westown. "Mister Gerald and his granddaughter perished in the fire a long time ago. There was a blaze a few years back; it burned the whole place to the ground."

"Arson?" Shadow questioned.

"No one's really sure," she answered. "But, there is a bounty out for a Shadow the hedgehog. Mayor Robotnik thinks it was him who did it."

The black and red hedgehog felt the color drain from his face. But he hid it well. "Sounds like a real bastard, if you don't mind me saying."

Amy nodded again. She didn't mind at all.

...

"Anoth-..." Sonic hiccuped quietly, "... another shot."

"Reckon you've had just about enough for the night, Sonic," Knuckles insisted gently, prying a whiskey-stained glass from the blue hedgehog's fingers.

"One more," he slurred, "for the road."

The rusting chandelier swung daintily from the rafters of the saloon, like a man's feet kicking softly against the wind of the gallows. Lit flames scattered about the room glowered amber from their wax prisons, casting the room in a hellish ambiance of orange tension. Like the world was simply waiting for the shattering noise of hailing gunfire.

Sonic the hedgehog, always the last to leave, was slumped lifelessly over the counter, begging for his thirteenth or fourteenth last whiskey. "C'mon," he whined quietly, barely louder than the squeaking hinges of the entrance doors. "Just one more..."

The solid clumping sound of approaching footsteps resounded through the room, and the near-silent squealing of steel spurs clinked ever so gently against the hardwood floor.

Knuckles glanced up from his sullied and sullen patron, finding a dark green hedgehog standing in the center of the bar. His tinted spectacles concealed the fire in his gaze as he locked eyes with the barkeep.

"Hold on a second," the echidna told Sonic in hushed tones, slightly ashamed of his drunken friend. He stepped around the hedgehog's collapsed form and cleared a spot beside him so the new customer could sit. "Howdy. What's your poison?"

Scourge the hedgehog grinned, sporting gleaming yellow-white fangs. "I'll take a glass of your finest _merlot_," he said, accenting the drink's name with mock sophistication.

The red echidna sniggered. "Real freakin' funny. Buy somethin' real or get the hell out. I ain't got time for jokers."

The green demon's smile widened, the lenses of his glasses flickering the red-gold light. His grip on his recently-recovered Schofields tightened as he began to lift them from their holsters. The darkness of his jacket hid his hands from the keen eyesight of the bartender.

"Jokers?" Scourge snickered. "I got one for ya', barkeep."

...

The taut retort of a .45 Schofield blared in Shadow's ears. His neck instinctively twitched towards the noise as he struggled to determine its source. "The hell was that?" he muttered, though he was already pinpointing its origin.

"Gunfire," Amy gasped.

Shadow drew his revolver from the depths of his trench coat, raising it high as he marched towards the disturbance. Without his knowledge, the preacher's daughter followed him closely.

...

Searing, white-hot agony flashed through Knuckles' right shoulder as the lead gouged through bone and oozed crimson blood. He choked loudly and nearly vomited in sheer shock as the pain began to throb down to his arm and chest. The shotgun beneath the counter that was once inches from his grasp now seemed to be miles away.

"What'ya call a guy who's red..."

A second bullet smashed through the already-wounded echidna, destroying his sternum and barely missing his rapidly beating heart. Bits of chalk-white bone struggled to surface through the bloody mess of his bubbling, scarlet-stained shirt.

Scourge took his time, savoring each sputtering gasp Knuckles emitted as he wandered towards his prey.

"... got three freakin' holes in him..."

An impossibly agonizing third shot rang out and tore through Knuckles' ribcage, and gouts of gutshot blood and gore leaked from his stomach. The dying barkeep began to drown in his own blood as he prayed to the God he had never before believed in for mercy.

"... and is staring down the business end of two pistols?"

There was no reply as Scourge chambered the bullet that would no doubt end the suffering man. So the evil hedgehog answered his own riddle with a sadistic smile that rivaled that of Satan's. "Screwed is what ya' call him," he chuckled, eyes wide and bloodshot with malevolent pleasure.


	6. Chapter 6

His hands were like lightning and just as fast as they brashly intercepted the killing shot, shoving the barrel of the gun skyward and discharging the round into the ceiling. Splinters of falling wood and smoldering gunsmoke clouded the air as Sonic stared into the face of death for the second time that day. His worn, trademark grin glared at Scourge's growing scowl through the black of gunpowder.

"You _never _shoot the bartender, friend," Sonic informed him, stumbling over his words but making his message clear as the day he had once fought to defend. He felt lazily for his holster, steadily drawing and aiming his Mauser from his jacket.

"See," he hiccuped, "he's the one with the booze. And I..."

The blue hedgehog exhaled alcohol-tinged breath into Scourge's face, burning his eyes. He poked the bandit's chest with the barrel of his machine-pistol as he spoke. "I freakin' _love _booze, ya' see. So, that means that I _love _the bartender. So, in case you don't get it..."

Sonic suddenly moved, throwing his foot forward and directly into the opposing hedgehog's stomach. Scourge coughed blood and tumbled backwards, knocking over chairs as he went, eventually landing with a crash on the floor beneath him. One of his precious revolvers broke free of his grasp, skidding into the darkness as Sonic stared down the sights of his pistol.

"Ya' never... shoot... the bartender!" Sonic shouted dramatically as he squeezed the trigger in a drunken rage. Several amber explosions exploded in the night, and a stream of five bullets singed the air and hurtled towards Scourge.

The green hedgehog rolled to the left, ducking beneath a table and regaining his footing. Sonic's line of fire immediately shifted, moving wherever Scourge hid. The bandit flipped the table he had been cowering beneath, setting it on its end and using it as a makeshift shield against the onslaught of gunfire. The cracking and shattering noise of lead smashing against oak deafened the two hedgehogs, neither of which giving a damn about the sounds of hellfire they had each grown so accustomed to.

Click.

Sonic blinked through the haze of his alcoholic high.

Clickclick.

He pressed the trigger of his gun uselessly as the colors and sensations of gunsmoke and beer and blood blended together in hellish harmony. Empty?

Clickclickclickclickclickclick.

"Well, shit," he announced as Scourge barreled from cover, Schofield cocked and loaded.

Red-gray flame blazed from the darkness of the barrel as two shots rang out, and two bullets flew from the abyss, cutting lines of clarity through the smoke. Sonic danced and swayed in a drunken stupor, miraculously dodging each shot with what appeared to be grace. He spun without thinking, moving and thinking in glorious synchronization with his inner alcoholic, closing the distance and smacking the grip of his gun across the bandit's mouth. Blood and teeth spewed from his maw and clattered and spattered onto the floor below.

Scourge growled viciously, recovering quickly and hurling himself at the Blue Blur. Their bodies collided and Scourge felt his hand close around Sonic's throat. Immediately, his smile from hell returned, and he shoved the blue hedgehog into the counter behind him.

Sonic groaned and cursed under his breath as his spine connected with the edge of the countertop. "Goddamn..." he hissed through clenched teeth.

Scourge didn't hesitate, forcing his Schofield into the helpless hedgehog's face and eagerly yanking back the hammer with his thumb. "I was lookin' for a Shadow the hedgehog, you know," he admitted, smiling all the while. "You and your booze-buddy were just a warm-up. He'll come running when he hears all the hell we've been raising; if he's a real gunslinger, that is."

The deposed sheriff of Westown stared groggily into the all-too familiar face of death once again. Unfazed. "Who the hell is Shadow?"

The green hedgehog snarled in frustration. "Knowledge don't mean shit to the damned, _amigo_," he declared, pushing the gun deep into Sonic's skin, his finger a hair's breadth from the trigger. "And you, well you are one damned motherfu-!"

**Chachunk.**

Knuckles was pulling back the hammer of his twelve-gauge, double-barreled Remington just as Scourge spotted him struggling behind the counter. The killer's eyes enlarged to the size of eggs just as the bleeding bartender touched the trigger.

"Sonuvabitch!"

Sonic instinctively threw himself to the floor when he heard the sound of shells being chambered, and Knuckles let out a final, shaky gasp as he heard the bullets click into place. His violet eyes puffed with tears of agony, and his gory body shuddered as he spoke. "No guns, asshole."

There was a piercing crack as Knuckles' finger located and squeezed back both triggers, sending two beams of orange and red inferno directly into Scourge's throat. The crunching sound of bone disintegrating into ash and collapsing into itself resounded through the room as the hedgehog's spine was severed at the neck. Blood squirted from the place where there should have been a head as Scourge's skull flew end-over-end and away from the bar, landing with a wet smack on the gore-stained floor. For a moment, the demon's headless body stood on its own, as though the gunslinger was still able and willing to fight.

But gravity, a cruel mistress, allowed the assassin's corpse to stand no more. The cadaver fell to its knees first, then it plummeted backwards with a sickening thud, its bones tilted at unnatural angles.

Scourge the hedgehog was no more.

...

There were many sounds ringing through Knuckles the echidna's ears as he slumped into the beam behind him, sliding down into the pool of blood that had accumulated at his feet. His pants soaked the dark red fluids into the material, warming his already tired legs, making his will to go on evermore weak. Darkness pried at the corners of his eyes, seeping into his vision and dulling the pain.

_"You blew his freakin' head off!"_

The drunken, half-assed laughter of his favorite customer and best friend echoed somewhere far away.

The clatter of the double-doors to his bar slamming open. Footsteps. A pair of footsteps. Two new customers.

_"Christ alive."_

Deep. Calm. Dark. The customer from this morning, perhaps? He was too tired to tell. There was a glimmer of light in the distance...

_"Oh my God."_

Queasy. Frightened. Girlish. It couldn't be the preacher's daughter. The girl would never set foot into his establishment, especially not now, of all times. But he swore he could hear her drawing a cross over her chest, mumbling the names of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

The light that was once so far off seemed closer now; he could nearly reach out and grasp it in his hands...

...

Several things registered in Shadow's mind as he shoved open the doors to the saloon and entered the aftermath. One was the wounded, nearly-dead bartender wallowing behind the counter, gurgling mindlessly as he fell deeper into eternal slumber. The second was the laughing, drunk off-his-ass hedgehog in the corner of the room, leaning and coughing wildly on top of a toppled barstool. The guy from earlier; the same bastard that had stolen his drink?

The third was the recently-detached head of one Scourge the hedgehog. There were twin pools of red-hot blood and piss-gold mucus pooling about his face, and his eyes, locked open for an eternity of what could be no less than damnation, soaked disgustingly in the stewing liquids, growing bloodshot and hazy as the remnants of life fled from the fading irises.

The preacher's daughter hurriedly scratched a cross over her breast, and the naming of the Holy Trinity alerted Shadow to her presence. He cast her a concerned glance.

She looked fit to vomit.

"You alright?" the ultimate life form asked with a sideways look.

"Y-..." she stuttered, her face turning color, "y-y... no... I mean, yeah, I mean..."

Amy Rose quickly caught herself as bile rushed up her throat. The result was a burning, gross burping noise that sickened her even more. She squeaked out a pathetic 'excuse me' as she stumbled out the doors and promptly lost her lunch.


End file.
